


7:00

by incorrectbatfam



Category: DCU (Comics), Young Justice - All Media Types
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Fluff, Future Fic, Humor, M/M, Slice of Life, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:46:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25028719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/incorrectbatfam/pseuds/incorrectbatfam
Summary: The countdown ends when the front door opens.
Relationships: Bart Allen/Jaime Reyes
Comments: 5
Kudos: 45





	7:00

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PaintingWithDarkness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaintingWithDarkness/gifts).



> Written loosely based on the song "All The Small Things" by blink-182

The countdown ends when the front door opens.

If Jaime’s getting more specific, it ends at seven in the evening, every day, on the dot. That’s when Bart gets home from his evening patrol in Central City, which, for the speedster, takes exactly eleven minutes. It leaves Jaime with nine minutes to put the final touches dinner—he lost two minutes because not even Khaji Da could locate the cheese grater in the mess of their shared kitchen. 

The last rays of sunshine stream through the window as Jaime shreds some cheese into a salad bowl. Amber light bounces off the granite countertop and shines on the many photographs scattered around the room. Jaime’s eyes follow it from the cream-colored curtains to the laminated photo booth strip on the cabinet—their first date, way back when Bart was still in college. From there, the thin beam of light travels to the magnetic frame on the fridge, where two older-looking men sat among unpacked boxes in a starter apartment. Jaime remembers the entire place being no larger than the kitchen he’s standing in. The sunlight finds a landing spot on Jaime’s favorite picture, hanging on a wall in the hallway next to a Justice League calendar. A smile tugs at his lips as he subconsciously fiddles with the band on his finger.

As he finishes tossing the salad, the doorknob clicks in a familiar way—that is, over and over while the man on the other side curses the “stupid retro locks”. The time on the microwave reads:  **6:59 PM** . 

Like clockwork, the door swings open as the clock strikes seven o’clock. And like the days, months, and years before, Jaime is there, ready to sweep Bart up in his arms and spin him around, peppering the speedster’s face with an endless barrage of kisses.

“I missed you,  _ mi amor _ ,” Jaime says between pecks.

Bart giggles. “I missed you too, babe.”

“But I missed you more,” Jaime replies. “Scarab can vouch for me.”

**[It is true. You are insufferable when separated from the Bart Allen.]**

He presses his lips to Bart’s, smiling into the kiss.

The latter laughs and asks, “Are we gonna eat anytime soon?”

“Mm… just one more, I swear.”

And just like every other evening, Jaime would listen as Bart rambles about work and superhero business and how much it sucks. A fond smile grows on the older man’s face as the love of his life retells stories in dramatic, gesture-filled reenactments. Jaime never understands when people complain about their significant other talking too much. As far as he’s concerned, Bart doesn’t talk enough. 

After putting the dishes in the washer, Jaime grabs a half-dollar coin hidden under the cookie jar. 

“What do you wanna do tonight?” he asks.

Bart thinks for a moment. “How about  _ MasterChef _ ? What episode were we on?”

Jaime shakes his head. “Does it matter? They’re all the same. I say we watch one of the classics, like  _ Ghostbusters _ .”

“You’re heads, I’m tails.”

“That’s how it’s always been.”

Jaime flips the coin onto the counter and watches as it spins before slowly coming to a stop. Both men groan as the coin balances itself on the edge.

“Not again,” Bart whines. “What is it this time, Khaji? Math?”

The scarab chirps.

**[Video games. It will strengthen your reflexes and reaction time.]**

“He says video games,” Jaime translates.

Bart raises both eyebrows. “That’s… not a terrible idea.”

Jaime glances over his shoulder. “You sure about that,  _ hermano _ ?”

**[A suitable alternative would be to monitor the weather channel.]**

“Video games it is,” Jaime declares. “You boot it up, I’ll make some popcorn.”

Back in El Paso, they would be making their way to the dunes in the outskirts by now, always sitting on top of the same one to watch the sparkling night sky. Jaime finds it ironic that the stars aren’t visible in Star City with all the light pollution. 

As Jaime makes his way to the living room with a large bowl, Bart asks, “I couldn’t find  _ Call of Duty _ so we’re stuck with  _ Mortal Kombat _ .”

“I call Sub-Zero,” Jaime says, tossing a handful of popcorn in his mouth before reaching for the controller.

“No fair,” Bart pouts. “You always get first dibs.”

“Looks like the Fastest Man Alive is not quick enough for  _ El Escarabajo Azul _ .”

Like always, as soon as the game starts, Bart makes it his job to distract Jaime as much as possible. He crawls on top of Jaime, splaying his long limbs out like a starfish clinging to a rock. Jaime laughs and tries to shove him off, but to no avail. Bart begins to trail sloppy kisses along Jaime’s jaw and neck.

Jaime exclaims, “At least wait ‘til someone loses before we start making out!”

“Oh, is that what we’re doing now?” Bart teases. “I’m just here to secure my victory, but if you have other plans…”

“ _ Ese _ , you do this all the time!”

Bart mashes a few buttons at super speed and tosses the controller aside. “There, you lost. Now, where were we?”

Jaime laughs as Bart wraps his legs around his midriff and sets his arms on the older man’s shoulders. Their lips collide in a way that feels familiar—one that gets their hearts racing while also feeling warm and comforting, like coming home after a long day. Bart’s shirt rides up and Jaime takes the opportunity to snake his hands underneath while deepening the kiss. The game lays forgotten as they focus on each other, moving like dance partners with years of classical training. The taste of popcorn gives way to a more natural flavor as Bart reaches for Jaime’s belt buckle. 

Jaime pulls apart and says, “We should take this to the bedroom.”

“It’s our place,” Bart replies. “Not like anyone’s gonna walk in.”

Jaime tilts his head in the TV’s direction. “No, but there’s a big-ass feature window and that other building.”

Bart waggles his eyebrows. “Why not give them a show?”

Jaime laughs as he scoops his lover up, bridal style. By the time they reach the room, they’re already back to the heated lip-lock. Stumbling in the dark, they topple onto the unmade bed. Jaime reaches to turn on the bedside lamp, but Bart stops him.

“I like it better in the dark,” he says.

Jaime smiles. “Very well,  _ mi amor _ .”

Jaime runs his fingers through Bart’s hair one more time as their bodies press against each other, the sweat long since dried and a cool silk sheet draped over their lower halves. 

“Did I ever tell you how happy you make me?”

Bart laces his fingers with Jaime’s. “I think I recall you mentioning that somewhere in your vows.”

Jaime leans up and places a kiss on Bart’s forehead.

“I stand by every word.”

Bart giggles. “Remember when we first started dating?”

“How could I forget?” he chuckles. “You were, what, nineteen? And you had no idea what pillow talk was. You thought it was when guys told ghost stories at sleepovers.”

“In hindsight, I’m pretty sure Kon was being sarcastic.”

Jaime throws his head back and laughs.

Bart always falls asleep first. Jaime would pull him close to his chest and stayed as still as possible for fear of waking the speedster. Bart always needs more rest—more time to recharge with his fast metabolism working all day—and Jaime always gives it to him.

Sometimes one of them would get a bad dream. They’ve become less and less frequent as memories of the Reach invasion fade into the distant past, but Jaime knows they’ll never disappear. If he could take away Bart’s nightmares and carry them on his shoulders instead, he would do it in a heartbeat. 

Tonight, they’re lucky.

As always, Bart is the first to wake up. 

He snuggles closer, planting tiny pecks on Jaime’s face until the latter lifts his eyelids. Then he dives in for a real kiss. Half-asleep, Jaime smiles as he feels Bart’s lips against his. 

In his husky morning voice, Bart says, “Rise and shine, darling.”

Jaime leans forward for another kiss before answering, “ _ Buenos días, mi amor _ .”

After that, they begrudgingly leave the warmth of their bed. Jaime shivers as his feet hit the cold wooden floor. Bart is in and out of the bathroom before Jaime even reaches the dresser, zooming into the kitchen to make what would be a hearty breakfast. The smell of bacon and eggs wafts through the apartment the entire time Jaime showers and gets dressed. As he brushes his teeth, Jaime can hear Bart belting along to an old blink-182 song on the radio, and though the younger man is as off-tune as they can get, Jaime loves to listen.

_ “Na na na na na na na na na, na–” _

“ _ Ese _ , don’t forget to keep an eye on the food,” Jaime shouts from the bedroom as he loops a tie around his neck like a scarf but doesn’t fully tie it.

As always, Bart is fast but not vigilant around Jaime, allowing the perfect opportunity to sneak up from behind. Jaime’s arms fit perfectly around Bart’s waist as he rests his chin on the younger man’s shoulder and compliments how good the food smells. Bart flips the last strips of bacon onto a plate and sets the pan in the sink before turning around. He’s still in pajamas, not having work until much later. The radio sits next to a fruit bowl while the weatherman on TV drones about with the daily forecast. 

Pressing his lips to Jaime’s, he says, “Coffee’s almost done. And you gotta learn to tie your own freaking tie.”

“ _ ¿Por qué? _ I have you,” Jaime replies.

Bart helps him tie the knot before lightly whacking Jaime with a dishtowel. “One day you’re gonna ask me to do it and I’m gonna say no.”

“You won’t. You love me too much.”

Bart tosses the towel over his shoulder and scoffs playfully. “I want a divorce.”

Jaime sticks his tongue out. “Scarab says I can’t let that happen.”

**[I said no such thing.]**

“What time is it?” Bart checks his phone. “Damn, you gotta hurry up.”

Jaime shovels the food in his mouth, sad that he can’t sit at the table to taste it. But Bart’s phone and the microwave both read:  **6:59 AM** . Jaime sprints across the hallway to grab his jacket. The sunlight from the kitchen—the beam bouncing off the photos—lands on one final one in the hall. 

Despite the time crunch, Jaime slows down to get a proper look. Standing under a flower arch, hand in hand, donning matching white suits, the two of them make their way past the chapel steps as their friends and family cheer on in what Jaime considers to be the best day of his life. There’s a spark in their eyes and they wrote in their vows that they’d make sure it never fizzles out. 

Jaime throws his jacket over his shoulder and leans in for a goodbye kiss. That turns to two, which turns to four, which turns to  _ “just one more, I swear” _ .

“Babe, it’s seven. You’re gonna be late,” Bart says.

“Fine,” Jaime relents, grabbing the doorknob. “ _ Te amo. _ ”

“I love you too.”

As soon as the front door shuts, the countdown begins.


End file.
